


Watching . . . Caught

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-01
Updated: 2003-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex and Zen, A long moment in a garden<br/>Lionel, Clark and Lex think<br/>Clark and Lex kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching . . . Caught

## Watching . . . Caught

by spyhop

<http://www.livejournal.com/users/spyhop>

* * *

...Watching 

Lionel has spent a considerable part of his fortune and expended a significant amount of will to make physically possible the two completely glass walls in his penthouse. The walls meet to form the southwest corner of its top floor. Breathtaking and conspicuous, the view of his demesne is sprawling and possessive. 

The view, not coincidentally, includes one of the jewels of the Metropolis skyline. It boasts the corporate seat of one of America's most volatile and significant young companies and houses his son. 

Lionel can watch the sunset from this room with LexCorp in the foreground. The building doesn't at all block the path of the star; it stands somewhat to the side. Its long straight majesty is a complement to the round ever changing brightness. Black glass walls reflect the tangerines and pinks onto Lionel's face while painting the room in warmth. 

It's too perfect not to be calculated. Lionel won't decide if it's gift or a threat. Whether Lex thinks about the view from his father's seat because he wants Lionel to have it or because someday it will be his. Lionel could ask. Couch it in some obscure historic lesson, have Lex jump yet another hoop. Prove his intelligence, his mettle, his worth. 

He'd present the query with an appropriately grand gesture of his arm, hair sweeping forward as his eyes tighten, trying to break through to the boy with Lillian's eyes and mouth. Her expressions ghosting through, at odd moments, leaving Lionel gut shot. He knows those looks too well. Faint disappointment, sadness, big bold anger, his Lillian was never one to back down. Not even if she was wrong. Ha! The boy didn't only get that from him. 

Sometimes he thinks he's losing the memory of her face. It's these times when he'll most likely bait Lex. To use his considerable strength and experience to press onto the fledgling company. To expertly squeeze one area, cause some unpleasantness that inevitably results in having the door to his private office burst open. 

"Dad." 

"Lex, so good to see you. My sight returning has been quite the boon." 

"Glad to hear it Pop. What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

That's it. Past the preliminaries and onto the accusations. Lionel would look up and there it was - her face. He watched carefully during these interactions. His son was schooled to keep his control but Lionel had years of training. He knew the signs. He could see the lines of frustration, the pleading hidden in the set of the jaw, the incredulity in the slightly too peaked eyebrow. He knew Lex thought Lionel wanted to destroy him. But it wasn't true. 

Lionel wanted to see him. 

But Luthors don't come when you call them. Sentimentality is a crutch. His son won't be ready for the world until his son is done with him. Lionel Luthor isn't letting go without a fight. 

And so the games continue. In the days to come he'll run his company and do it well but every so often a special project will grab his attention. Perhaps it will be the study of an extraordinary boy or the search for a better way to manufacture crap. 

Things that interest Lex interest him. All good parenting manuals parrot that chestnut. 

So, he supposes that during the time before Smallville, he should have just had at it. What would he have done? Ecstacy, cocaine, heroin, genius chemicals designed for the night, debauchery, clubs, back rooms, basements, arrests, people like stains and pretties like candy. It was only when infuriated beyond belief at the fear Lex caused him that he finally recognized the behavior. 

Lex had been hiding. 

Lex didn't want to be seen. You could watch all you want. He gave a big show, so much dazzle and shine on the surface that you'd never see below. Take the big story, but never see the real surface. 

Lionel couldn't just confront him with this truth. No, the Luthors went another round with the grand and the huge. Lionel had engineered a practically biblical exile. He had grabbed Lex and thrown him from the mountain. There was nowhere to hide in Smallville. He'd be always seen in the very land where the sky had tried to kill him. Where the stones from the heavens had forever marked him. 

Therapy. Luthor style. 

Surprisingly, Lex had survived. Despite a propensity of accidents and at least twenty dramatic Kent rescues, Lex never hid again. Lionel likes to think Lex is even glad for the time in Smallville. He's expecting a thank you any day now. 

Lionel moves to the bar, pours a couple fingers of cognac and watches his son's building from his own. The buildings aren't that close but today the view is uncanny. 

He sees a bit of light somehow flickering along one ledge. He looks closer, realizes that it's water, flowing as if in a straight line. Looking like liquid ebony in the rays of sunset. He watches and sees the line disrupted. He watches closely and sees the interruption is caused by a wooden pole dipped in and out quickly. The dips cause drops of water to splash up and onto Lex. A Lex who's laughing and smiling and apparently all right with being drenched without retaliating. Well maybe not entirely all right, as now he sees Clark Kent being toppled into the pond. 

Clark pulls Lex down into the water and for a brief moment Lex's face is caught shining in the sunset's light. There's an eager contentment there. An expression of joy and promise, expectation and hope. 

A shimmer of Lillian's face as she tells him she loves him. 

The sunset finished, Lionel thumbs a remote, ruining the effect of the glass walls by shrouding them in curtain. 

He can see ghosts better in the dark. 

. . .Caught 

Clark learned to control each new power by working carefully with it, taking it out where no one could get hurt and learning its limits by testing his boundaries. Super speed, heat vision, the raw power in his limbs all became an integral part of him after long periods of trial and error in one of the farm's back fields. 

He did this most often alone, so he could concentrate fully. But sometimes when the feeling of different became too great, he would bring Martha or Jonathan. Silent support, unwavering love, admirably hiding their fear and anxiety, they would give him the human strength he needed to be alien. 

Beyond the crops and cows, he would work with the newly revealed piece of strange. He'd take it out, victimize some piece of land and work on varying the parameters of his thoughts and body until he could use his new responsibility with at least some understanding and restraint. 

Sometimes the powers still escaped, freed by some extreme need or emotion. But he didn't fear the loss of control so much for the damage he'd do as for what it might reveal. The damage could often be rolled up into the same non-explanation as the cause of whatever event had required his participation. It was the clues each incident left that worried him. 

Lex liked clues. And really, Clark saying "I love you" to him, out loud, with actual words, while they were both awake and present, was a hell of a clue. It was maybe the ultimate one of its kind, the clue that would negate the need for any others. 

What then, to call what happened the morning after Clark's revelation when he'd stormed his father's office, was open to debate. He'd gone there to demand the reason LuthorCorp was underbidding LexCorp on the riverside development. It was clearly fiscal suicide, fiduciary hari-kari. Nonsensical economically. 

Mid-rant, after having, again, blown successfully past the security staff, Lex realizes that last night, the date of the last clue, is the day meteors rained down on the plains of Kansas. It's not an anniversary he sentimentalizes, for obvious reasons, but one ingrained deeply nonetheless. He knows Lionel remembers. 

As this realization hits him, he maintains control. He notices his father staring at him, hungry for the display of temper. Lionel, Lex thinks, is always watching for weakness, trying to pinpoint the moment when the most havoc can be wrought. Today, Lex gives him a doozy. 

Lex pauses, raises an eyebrow and practically giggles at the words ready to tumble out of his mouth. Then, as he watches his father's face register confusion turning to amazement, Lex unleashes true devastation. 

He smiles. 

And he lets Lionel watch. 

It's probably something his father hasn't seen in years, unforced and unaided by chemicals and not caused by blunt force trauma. It's just a smile, pure and open and made beautiful and soft by the clue. 

"You know what Pop?," Lex says, and he can almost hear affection in that, rather than his usual cruelty, "The project is huge. Bring Sloane in here and show me a real plan for the west quadrant." 

At this, Lex sits, runs his arms down the arms of the same chair he's sat in since he graduated from laps, and creates time. He's going to enjoy his father's expression, which rather than one of contempt is one of shocked contemplation. Ha! Lex thinks, gotcha. 

His next thought is that Clark's right, a speechless Luthor is a special kind of joy. Also, kind of creepy, but there's no going back now, so the smiling continues. 

Lionel learned control in a Smallville hospital. Airspace was being contained by the military. He couldn't call for his helicopter. Roadways were closed. His usually quick mind tried to understand the idea of quarantine. He wanted to bring her son to his wife and couldn't figure out how to make it happen. 

Finally, he had stepped back from the medical personnel, registered that the coffee he held was cold, realized that the streaks of green on his coat and tie were in fact from corn and not from outer space and seen Lillian walk down the hall and into his arms. 

She smelled like hope, he remembers, wisteria and jasmine, some creation from Creed. A small smell with a ridiculous pedigree. He tested his powers as he explained what had happened to Lex and waited for her wrath. He explored his strengths as he told her how he'd had failed her; hadn't protected the only treasure she considered valuable. He harnessed his courage as he waited to be flayed and thrown from her concern. But the hammer never dropped. She listened and nodded and had even checked him for injury. 

Lillian had then passed her hand softly over Lionel's eyes and down his cheek. She had pressed her face to his jacket and kissed his shoulder before walking off to find the beloved boy. 

The doctors were much happier to talk with her. They thought she was less of a threat. Lionel knew that was an illusion. Had any of them disappointed her, she would have gracefully eradicated the memory of anything good in their lives. How the hell had Lillian arrived so quickly? Lionel had no more fear for Lex. 

For himself, however, he had concerns. He'd needed help. He'd been saved by a farmer and depended upon a rickety pick up truck to transport the future of his world to safety. He owed someone who wouldn't look for payback. From their scant acquaintance he could see that Jonathan and Martha Kent were sincere when they said there was no debt. 

So, now years later, when his hope has been lost to a long bitter battle with illness, when the boy has grown into a man who looks at his father with caution, when the debt has been repaid but the Kents remain a mystery, Lionel seeks control and flounders. 

But he does get a clue. Accepts the gift. 

He watches a boy's expression and remembers seeing a girl saying yes. He admits he's caught by the ghost of Lillian's smile. He stops baiting their son and calls in Sloane. A plan is discussed. Meetings are set. More people join the discussion and publicity has a field day. 

Lex grins at the idea of a joint interview, thinking of a certain Daily Planet intern, and walks to a window. Lex stares up at his rooftop. Watches his father follow a line of sight from the window to one of the telescopes. Laughs and actually gives his father a proper goodbye. 

He arrives back in his penthouse's office and sends everyone home. He knows they're too good not to tie up loose ends but he makes them do it elsewhere. It's Friday and he's cleared his schedule. He walks out onto the fresh air 78 stories above the city. 

Lex learns control by his Zen garden. He sits at the edge of the black sand and runs a pale hand through its softness. The grains are so fine that they catch in he whorls of his fingerprints. The black specks clearly define the white space. The two better and clearer than the one and one. 

He pulls one of the rakes from the grass. He casts the comb-like end into the sand. He pulls and creates furrows, smooth from top to bottom. The lines that result are uniform and rift-free. He takes some of the smooth dark river stones and places them within his newly established parameters. He moves lazily but deliberately. Rake, place stone, rake again. All the while he hears the sound of the water falling over the edge and recycling to the top. The steady sound slows his breathing, makes the city fade. 

Lex turns the clue over in his mind. Idly wonders what finally pulled it from Clark's mouth. Remembers his own speechlessness, knows he had to glance downward and remain perfectly still. Lex knows everyone expects action from him. He thinks fast, decides faster and knows waiting is for the weak. 

But he's been waiting for five years and whatever else that makes him, it's made him the boy Clark wants. So he waits some more. Raking and listening because no matter how fast Clark disappeared last night, there's no way he's not coming back. 

Lex hears Clark before he sees him. Knows Clark never has a problem finding him. Everyone on his payroll has a directive to always help Clark in that pursuit. Lex tries to prop himself up but the warm sand gives way and he just sprawls where he lays. Means it as invitation but doesn't want to rush. 

Clark watches Lex and hurries. He knows this is the moment before everything changes. He's nervous and barely registers the conversation about Professor Carlson and cutting class on Friday. His entire goal is to get down on that grass and touch Lex. 

Finally, he makes it happen. His head is cradled on Lex's ankle and Lex's hand is in his hair. He pushes himself up and over and then there's kissing. Good and sweet, slow and just right, kissing like it's meant to be. 

Mouths open and familiar, yet new because now there's the hot and the wet and mint and maybe some vanilla coke. Followed by a slip of tongue surprisingly deep, lips around each other so working with the sucking and the half-mindless licking as mouths stretch and play, the sheer potential of variation mindblowing. 

The kiss stretches on forever. With the sun fading in the sky and the pretty colors trying to compete for attention. The tangerines and purples don't have a chance next to the soft sounds and breathless sighs, there's some laughter also but mostly just the sound of skin moving on skin as the water keeps falling. It's the mouths running the show but the bodies are demanding their say. 

Clark has managed to climb completely on top of Lex. Lex's legs are open and Clark can't help but move over and over against him. Lex takes each thrust and pushes back, hard sliding against cloth and then meeting warmth on the other side. Lex opens his mouth and his teeth nip Clark's jaw. 

Clark moves his mouth and instead uses his fingers to tease Lex's mouth. He likes watching so much that he decides to move the hand to his mouth. He watches Lex, waiting for his plan to come together. 

"Cl-ark" slightly strangled. Victory, Lex's control has been breached, there will be laps and laurels later. Much later. 

"Mmmmm?" Clark answers with just the sound, lips still tight around his fingers. 

Lex clears his throat. Makes an effort. "Clark," he says, one syllable, and Lex counts it a success. "We could move inside," he says and it's silky, even, Lex is back, baby. 

Unacceptable, thinks Clark, as takes the fingers out of his mouth and goes back to the kissing. He's learned a lot this afternoon about what Lex likes and he's studiously applying varying pressure, hardish nips and tongue strokes to cause Lex to buck underneath him. And now Lex's hands are under his shirt and Clark realizes that Lex's nails are electric on his skin. 

Clark lets go of Lex's mouth. Lex moves blindly, looking for reconnection. Clark gives it to him, but only fleetingly, touches of lip but nothing to push and work against. Lex tries to lift up or pull Clark down but Clark's heavy and Lex's hands are trapped next to Clark's chest. 

Clark knows that Lex is becoming frustrated but also that he's so hard he can't care. Lex is pleading with his hands and begging with his mouth. Clark's sure words will follow and this is a new power he can definitely get behind. Besides he knows that Lex will survive. He's counting on the fact that Lex is strong enough to exact appropriate and naked revenge. 

Thanking about naked, he loses concentration for a second. He drops his mouth to Lex's and kisses thoroughly, teasing forgotten. But Lex remembers and takes advantage of Clark's distraction. He levers his legs while pushing up with his chest and arms. One big thrust of his hips (and, oh yeah, that's happening again) and Clark is flipped. Lex on top, farmboy spread beneath him. 

Clark thinks this is just fine. He's giddy with delight. He moves and Lex reacts. He says "I love you" and Lex stills. He kisses and Lex begs. He laughs and Lex sits up and grins. 

"Good day," says Clark. 

"Yeah," answers Lex. 

Lex looks over to his father's building. He doesn't examine what happened this afternoon too closely. Those details will make themselves clear and life will change as necessary. He wonders if his father is thinking about him, wonders if he's enjoying the view. 

Clark has always seen the strength in Lex. Right now he can feel the acceptance in the give of Lex's body. Lex is acting like it's all part of his plan. Clark feels like he did when he realized that Lex's sprawl by the garden meant he was waiting to be found. No need to define boundaries, just time to move forward and make wishes kisses. 

Lionel has a huge ego. He believes that the meteor shower was a personal punishment. He had come to Smallville to scout land for his ancestral home. An actual castle he was ripping from the land that had given it power and wealth. Hubris. He had exercised his pride and the sky had tried to kill Lex. He had failed Lillian and somehow tangled his life with the Kents. But looking at Lex's rooftop, seeing those boys from that dry and frightening afternoon caught in a long and happy moment, he thinks maybe the meteor shower provided more than pain. 

That it paved the way for hope. 


End file.
